Guinea Pigs
by Annie-chan
Summary: Three scenes from the eyes of three victims of Hojo's experiments, giving us a brief glimpse of the cruel and bizarre things the mad scientist inflicts upon his prize guinea pigs.


**Author's Notes:** Geh…I seem to write less and less as time goes on. I have so many fanfic ideas, but I need to get off my lazy rear and actually write them. My only excuse is that I work full-time now, and can be tired when I get home. Ah, well…at least I haven't stopped writing altogether, ne?

I have a list of fanfic ideas, but my interest in them has waned, so they may get written eventually or they may get scrapped entirely. I even have a couple that I've started, and am debating whether I should continue on them someday or toss them. This story, on the other hand, came to me just yesterday, and I decided to write it now instead of put it on that list and possibly have it atrophy. I recently started playing _Final Fantasy VII_ again (man, it's been so long since I played it!), and as always, the human experiments Shinra performs and the people they are performed on really intrigue me. So many people in the game have been victim to Hojo's cruelty at one time or another: Sephiroth, Cloud, Aerith, Red XIII, Vincent, Ifalna, Zack, Lucrecia, and even Hojo himself. There might be more, but it's all I can remember right now. Anyway, this idea popped into my head as I was mulling over Sephiroth and Aerith.

Random note: We all know, from the character stats, that Aerith is twenty-two in the game. The stats say that Sephiroth's age is unknown, but I've heard that he is at or around thirty years old when the game takes place, meaning he'd be about eight when Hojo brought Ifalna and the newborn Aerith to his lab. I haven't heard any other figure for his age, and thirty sounds about right, so I used that.

_Final Fantasy_ and all characters and settings therein belong to Square. I'm just playing around a little for my own (and I hope my readers') amusement.

**Guinea Pigs  
**By Annie-chan

Bright laboratory lights blinded her as she was led through a maze of faceless, featureless corridors. She knew she was somewhere in the massive Shinra Tower, but she could only guess which of the seventy floors she was on. She had seen no windows since exiting the elevators, and she couldn't even be sure if it were day or night. All she knew was that she and the tiny baby in her arms were in grave danger, and all hope of escape seemed to have vanished. There was only one thing she had to be thankful for, and that was the fact that she was allowed, at least for now, to keep her newborn daughter with her.

There were about half a dozen Shinra guards behind them, their rifles at the ready. All she could see of their faces were their eyes, and what she saw in them frightened her. Some, those she guessed were younger, looked scared and intimidated. The other eyes were totally empty, as if their owners had been desensitized over the years. With no small twinge of pity, she thought that most of these men and women had come to Shinra in their youth, merely looking for a steady job in an economy dominated by the megaconglomerate. Nothing could have prepared them for the totalitarianism they would be working under, the cruel punishments inflicted upon those who disobeyed even a little, or the inhuman horrors they would witness. It was all but impossible for one to resign their post. Those who had the bravery to do so were usually hunted down and slaughtered, for Shinra would not tolerate "threats" to go free in the world. Anyone who might tell the ignorant common folk what went on inside Shinra was considered a threat.

The man who walked beside her had a firm, almost painful grip on her arm. His thin hands and slender frame made him look frail, almost weak, but the hold he had on her told her different. He was dressed all in white, save for polished black shoes that reflected the bright lights of the corridor. Wire-framed glasses sat on his nose, and his long hair was gathered at his nape in a loose ponytail. The sheer blackness of his eyes and hair, and the exotic shape of his face and eyes told her that he owed his lineage to the continent of Wutai to the far west. It wasn't common to see someone from Wutai on the Eastern Continent, and many of the peasants in the small villages and towns that dotted the landscape, concerned only with the small, isolated worlds they grew up in, disliked them. They were strange to their way of thinking, and anything strange might bring about unwelcome change.

It was a bit surprising that someone like Hojo had gone so far in the Shinra hierarchy. Relations between Shinra and Wutai were strained, and there had been threats of war from both sides. Shinra didn't like a large and powerful city like Wutai that was not under its control, and Wutai did not take kindly to Shinra's attempts to encroach on its ancient, tradition-rooted culture. How Hojo even got into Shinra in the first place was a mystery.

She had, of course, heard of this man and what he was capable of, but it was the first time she saw him up close. He would give her a glare if he caught her staring, but in observing him as much as she could through glances, she concluded that he was not bad-looking, and may indeed be quite pleasing to the eyes if he didn't have that perpetual look of distain upon his face. He saw everyone around him as inferior, and took his greatest pleasure from tormenting the unfortunate subjects of his "scientific" experiments.

Finally, though she had no idea where they were or how many corners they had turned, he stopped at what looked like an empty wall panel. Pressing upon what she thought was a random spot on the wall, a small door suddenly opened at about chest-height to him, revealing a set of buttons. Quickly punching in some kind of key code, he made the entire wall panel he had stopped them in front of slide away, opening the way to a dark hallway behind. A cold feeling of dread washed over her, and she resisted when he took her arm again and tried to pull her into the secret passageway.

"Come," he said, giving her a jerk, pulling her almost against him before he continued on, leading his unwilling captive forward. The guards also followed, but she thought she detected hesitation in their step.

They passed several doors in the dim hall, and she was certain they were prison cells. These were not like the cells on the 67th floor that she had been put in when first brought here. She got a distinct feeling of pain and suffering from these doors, inflicted by strange and unnatural means. This must be a cell block for Hojo's specimens.

He stopped at a door a little ways down the hallway, this one with the keypad visible next to it. He punched in another code, and the door moved to the side, revealing a small, dark room on the other side.

"Inside," he said simply, pushing her through the door. She was trembling, clutching her baby to her, and her fear finally gave way to defiance.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded. "What do you want from me?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, my dear," he answered, his lips stretching into a grin. There was no small amount of sadism in that terrible smile. The sight of that soulless, predatory look on his face drained all the defiance out of her as quickly as it had welled up.

"Let my daughter go!" she begged, almost falling to her knees before him. "Please! Let me find a home for her! I-I will willingly return if you let me do just that!"

He laughed, the sound of which chilled her bones. "That is impossible, I'm afraid. It is she who is most valuable to me, after all."

"W-what?" she stammered, her worst fears confirmed. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, as if it were obvious. "Never before have I encountered a specimen of mixed human and Cetra blood. It will be most interesting to see what I can learn from such a unique biology."

"She's only a baby!" she fairly screamed.

"Exactly, and I am most fortunate to have come across her as 'only a baby'!" he replied, unmoved by the young mother's desperation. "She is unspoiled by her environment, a completely clear slate. There is no better subject for my research."

Rage surged within her, and if she hadn't been holding the delicate new life in her arms, she would have lunged at him. She wanted to tear him to pieces for such a ghastly intent.

He laughed again, not missing the anger in her eyes. "I see you are quite excited for it to begin," he said, beginning to leave. "If you'll excuse me, my dear, I have business to attend to." With that, he went out and closed the door, leaving her and her daughter in almost total darkness.

The full weight of her helplessness came down upon her then, and she sat down on the hard floor, weeping. Just two days ago, she had seen her husband shot and killed as he tried to protect her and their daughter. Now, she and the little baby were prisoners in a cold, black cell, a hellish fate awaiting them. She had been so happy in the little snow-covered town in the far north, and had been so excited to raise her beautiful little daughter. Now, that rosy future had been dashed to pieces, and fate would have been kinder to them if they had both been killed.

The little girl in her arms mewed at her. She was such a quiet and complacent baby, and hardly ever screamed or cried. She seemed to knead at her mother's chest, wanting to be fed.

"Oh, are you hungry, Aerith?" she said, managing a smile through her tears. Shifting her to one arm, she unfastened the bodice of her dress and slipped it off one shoulder, exposing one of her breasts. Aerith latched on and suckled hungrily, drawing her sustenance from her mother. As this body had carried her and given birth to her, so too did it sustain and shelter her in her defenselessness. One couldn't exactly call that instinctual attachment love, but it was definitely a bond of dependence. The young mother, for her part, loved her baby very much, and her heart cried out in despair, knowing that this could very well be the last time she nursed her daughter.

Her tears continued to flow as Aerith suckled, apparently unaware of her mother's distress. When she finished, she snuggled up against her mother, falling asleep.

Her mother smiled again, her lips trembling. Such pure innocence lay in her arms. As she refastened her clothes, however, the smile disappeared. That innocence was on the verge of being stolen away, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Leaning back against the wall, holding her daughter gently, she closed her eyes and tried to escape, at least momentarily, from her prison. It was almost completely dark in her cell, and she could hear nothing from outside. She was almost on the verge of drifting away when she heard a scraping in the direction of the door. Her eyes popped open, looking toward the noise.

The door was opening, but the silhouette she saw in the dim light was not the one she dreaded. Rather, it was a young child, perhaps half-grown to adulthood. He seemed to be pushing the door open, and her eyes widened in shock when she realized he was forcing it. He appeared to be putting little effort out, so all she could assume was that he had considerable mental powers, giving him the ability to manipulate things with just his thoughts.

When the door was open enough, he jumped inside without giving her even a glance, letting go of the sliding door. Released, it slammed back into place with enough force to crush a person. The boy leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, sighing deeply as he sat.

"Um…excuse me…?" she asked hesitantly. Besides the telekinesis, there was something very unusual about this boy.

He jumped, springing to his feet and facing her. "I didn't know anyone was in here!" he cried. In the darkness, she could see his eyes. They were glowing, and she instantly recognized the mark of mako infusion. The mako-blue was shining brightly, but she could see flecks of green in that unnatural light, almost the same shade as the Lifestream. She wondered what caused that.

"I was just brought here," she said calmingly, hoping she hadn't frightened the boy.

"Oh," he replied. Light-colored hair framed his face, and she had the impression of paler than pale. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ifalna," she said, brushing away the last of her tears and smiling. If this was an escaped specimen, she didn't want to make him nervous. He was probably already panicky enough. "And, what can I call you?"

The boy hesitated for a long moment, not looking directly at her. "Sephiroth," he finally said.

"Are you hiding from someone, Sephiroth?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, sitting on the floor. There was something about him, in his eyes and in his voice, that made him seem older than he was. He looked maybe eight or nine years old, but his demeanor was that of someone much older. Ifalna's heart squeezed as the thought that perhaps he had been here since he was born, another of Hojo's "clean slates". His childhood must have been taken away from him before it had even begun.

"I'm sorry," was all she could think of to say.

Sephiroth did not reply, instead staring at the little bundle Ifalna held in her arms. "What is that?" he finally asked, pointing to it.

"This is Aerith," she smiled, happy the boy had apparently taken his mind off of whomever—though she had a very good guess of whom—he was hiding from.

"Aerith?" he repeated, puzzled. "What's an aerith?"

Ifalna laughed in spite of her situation. "Aerith is a name," she explained. "She's my daughter."

"Really?" Sephiroth asked, a sudden emotion in his eyes. Ifalna barely had time to recognize it as curiosity before he was right beside her. She blinked in surprise, taken aback by just how fast he was able to move. "A…a baby?" the boy murmured, looking at the little girl.

"Yes," Ifalna nodded, and a sudden thought occurred to her. "Haven't you ever seen a baby before?" she asked, sadness in her voice.

"No," the boy shook his head, hesitantly reaching out to touch Aerith. Ifalna's heart squeezed again, and she wished she could show her daughter to Sephiroth in better light. He must be terribly lonely and isolated, having no other children around to identify with.

"Do you want to hold her?" she asked.

"I can hold her?" he said, looking at her cautiously. "You'll let me?"

"Of course," she smiled. "Just be gentle. She is only a few weeks old." Carefully, not wanting to jar her daughter, she handed Aerith over to Sephiroth's inexperienced arms.

He looked down at her as he cradled her, holding her like he saw Ifalna had. Wonder was in his glowing eyes, and he seemed not to know what to make of this tiny creature. "I…I was like this once?"

"Yes," Ifalna nodded. "Don't you…don't you remember your parents?"

"My mother was Jenova," he answered. "She died giving birth to me. My father…he abandoned her before I was even born. He must not have wanted a baby. I don't even know his name." His voice was flat and emotionless. It was like he accepted the circumstances, but was forcing himself to. No one wanted to be in such a situation, and this boy was no exception.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said quietly, genuine pity in her voice.

Sephiroth was busy looking at Aerith, taking in every delicate feature. Suddenly, he smiled. "She's beautiful."

Ifalna was about to reply, but the door suddenly slid open. A tall, thin man was standing there, and Ifalna didn't need to hear his voice to know who it was. Neither, it seemed, did Sephiroth, for her pushed the baby back at her mother and stood up quickly to face Hojo. His body was rigid, agitated.

"I see you have met our new guests, boy," Hojo smirked as he entered. Even in the dim light, Ifalna could see his black eyes boring into Sephiroth's, somehow holding the boy captive. "Tell me, did you get out of your room again without asking?" He was just playing, knowing full well that Sephiroth had escaped.

The boy made no answer.

Hojo didn't speak for a moment, seeming to think about something. Then, that horrible smile came back full force. "Ah, yes," he purred. "What a marvelous idea."

"What?" Sephiroth demanded through his teeth.

"When the two of you," Hojo explained, indicating Sephiroth and Aerith, "are old enough, we can breed you together and see what kind of offspring is produced."

"WHAT!" Ifalna fairly shrieked, appalled by the idea of her daughter bred like an animal.

"Oh, calm yourself, my dear," he said. "Mixing his…unique…blood with that of a half-Cetra could bring about some very interesting results."

Ifalna paled, horrified by the fact that Hojo wasn't kidding around in the slightest. "You wouldn't…you couldn't…"

"You would be surprised by what I will and can do, Ifalna," he interrupted, a glint in his dark eyes.

Sephiroth had been silent, not saying anything, but the anger in his eyes flared up at the thought of being manipulated into something like he was merely a puppet.

"Come, boy," Hojo ordered Sephiroth, suddenly taking on a hard, authoritative tone.

"No," Sephiroth said simply, hatred in his bright eyes.

"Do not defy me!" Hojo growled, advancing on the smaller being. "Obey me!"

Sephiroth tried to run, but was stopped short by cold, cruel fingers twisting in his hair, yanking the soft strands painfully. He cried out and tried to fight back, but Hojo pulled a gun-like object from a coat pocket, pressed the business end of it to the boy's neck, and pulled the trigger. It was a pressure gun, and the tranquilizer inside was pushed through the boy's skin so fast and so thoroughly that not even a fine mist was left on the surface when the gun was pulled away. Sephiroth's knees gave out almost immediately, and he would have hit the floor if Hojo hadn't caught him and picked him up.

"I hope you have enjoyed meeting my prize specimen," Hojo smiled sickeningly. "Your daughter and he will beget some very valuable children, I am sure." With that, he left, closing the door behind him. Ifalna was alone again with Aerith.

Ifalna leaned back weakly against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes again. There was no hope for either of them, nor for that strange young boy who had seemed to be captivated by Aerith. They had fallen into the deepest pits of a Hell that no one had ever escaped from and lived for long. There was nothing left for them, no one to hold onto but each other. Even then, there was no way to tell when they would be separated. She had no doubt that Hojo would take her daughter from her sooner or later, to "raise" as he saw fit. She feared that more than anything else, and she wept again, overwhelmed by the hopelessness of it all.

It was the last time she would ever see the boy with the greenish-blue eyes.

* * *

"Find her! I don't care if you have to turn the whole building inside out!"

Aerith huddled in a corner of an air duct she had climbed into, listening to Hojo angrily bark out orders to the cowering guards. She had managed to escape the lab assistants who had been taking her to the head scientist, and Hojo had nearly exploded in rage when he learned one of his precious specimens was missing.

She was in an air shaft almost directly over his head, and was too afraid to breathe. She was terrified that her slightest breath would alert him to her hiding spot, and she didn't want to go back to that dark, cold cell. She didn't want him to do anymore painful things to her.

Her mother…where was she? Aerith's one thought was to find her, and maybe let her out so they could escape. She had no idea where she was, and indeed hadn't seen her mother for over a week. Hojo rarely let them see each other anymore, and Aerith hated seeing her mother cry each time they were separated again. It hurt so much to see tears on her mother's kind, loving face.

Hojo dismissed the guards to look for her, and stalked angrily away down the hallway. Aerith was unsure of his destination, but went along the air shaft in the opposite direction, wanting to put as much distance between her and him as possible. Though a full-grown adult may be cramped in the ducts, six-year-old Aerith had little difficulty moving down the small, dim corridor. Her biggest problem was being very quiet, for people were passing under her fairly often in this much used passageway.

The air ducts were a dark maze, and Aerith could feel herself getting more and more lost with every turn. The huge building must have miles of ductwork and piping in it, and she could spend days in there without crossing her path.

She abruptly came to a dead end. Already anxious from being completely lost, this new turn of events almost sent her into tears. She wanted her mother!

Looking back into the gloom behind her, she suddenly hated the dark, small spaces of these air ducts, and wanted to get out. A ventilation grate was near, and she crawled over to it, peering down. The room was empty and quiet, but lighted. Cautiously opening the grate, she eased herself down feet first. When she was all the way out, she hung to the edge for a few seconds, then let go. Small and light as she was, she hardly made a sound when she landed.

There was a chair on one side of the room, raised up a bit on a shallow dais. This chair had several straps and weird instruments attached to it. There was a dome-shaped hat that looked like it would cover the eyes if put on, with wires coming out of it at regular intervals. The parts of the chair that the occupant's arms and legs would be strapped down to had needles and measuring devices on them, and she shuddered to think what they might do. The chair itself was the focus of the room, several rows of tables and chairs arranged around it in concentric semi-circles, computer screens bolted to the table tops with keyboards in front of them. Whoever was placed in that chair would be monitored and watched.

The door was on the opposite corner of the room from where she was, and she tiptoed toward it, hoping the hallway outside would be clear. As she passed through the rows of desks, something caught her eye. One of the computers had been left on, like someone was planning to come back to it. On the screen was the profile of another of Hojo's specimens. She knew right away, for she had glimpsed her own profile from time to time going to and from different "procedures".

Like on hers, there were two pictures of the specimen's head and shoulders. One was taken face-on and the other in profile. It was a young man that she saw, pale and thin. His hair was silvery-white, like and unlike that of older people. She had never before seen a young person with that hair color, but his eyes drew her the most. They were a shade she had never before seen in a human's eyes. She herself had green eyes, and her mother had blue eyes, but this young man had eyes that were both blue and green. It was like two different lights were mingling, vying for authority in those deep windows into his soul. He looked tired, worn out, as if his life were stressful and unhappy. Considering he was a specimen of Hojo's, his life couldn't be very carefree and satisfying.

The young man's statistics were next to the pictures. She could read better than most six-year-olds—or at least that's what Hojo said—so she had no difficulty in learning this stranger's information.

ID number: 180742  
First name: Sephiroth  
Last name: N/A  
Sex: Male  
Age: 14  
Race: White  
Height: 5'6"  
Weight: 130 lbs.  
Eyes: Blue/Green  
Hair: Silver  
Birthday: February 27  
Birthplace: _classified_  
Mother: _classified_  
Father: _classified_  
Blood type: O-

Following the statistics was a long history of the procedures and experiments he had been subjected to, as well as their results and observations taken during each procedure. She barely had time to read the first, however, before she heard noise outside the door. Someone was operating the keypad to come in. Panicking, she ran to the back row of desks and dove under the one furthest from the door, praying she wouldn't be noticed. Hopefully, whoever it was would be in and out in a few seconds.

No such luck, and her heart skipped a few beats when she saw Hojo come in first, followed by a few lesser scientists and several lab assistants. They were all dressed in the starched, sterile white of the Shinra laboratories.

Hojo had someone by the arm, and though the other didn't fight against him, his grip was tight, as if to warn against any attempted escapes.

Aerith's eyes widened, and she could barely contain a gasp when she saw that the young man Hojo had by the arm was the same young man whose picture and statistics were displayed on that computer screen. The pictures in his profile only went down to a little past his shoulders, but she could see now that his hair was very long, falling to his hips. The body beneath the simple, unadorned grey clothing he wore was toned and sinuous, but thin. His eyes and face looked tense and wary, as in the picture, but the glow in his eyes wasn't captured by the camera with any justice. In person, they fairly blazed, but it was the flame of hidden, inner strength. There was much more to this youth than met the eye.

"Sit down, please," Hojo said to the three scientists, who sat down at three of the front computers and pulled notepads and pens from their lab coats. The lab assistants remained standing, waiting for orders.

"Sit down, Sephiroth," Hojo told the young man, using the grip he had on his arm to steer him toward the chair with the instruments all over it.

Sephiroth, who had up until now been silent and docile, finally reacted, twisting his arm violently out of Hojo's grasp and backing away a few steps. "No," he shook his head, defiant.

"Sit down," Hojo bit out, annoyed. "Now."

Sephiroth shook his head again, still refusing. Hojo nodded to two lab assistants, a couple of larger men, who came up behind Sephiroth, grabbed him by the arms, and brought him forward. Sephiroth roared in anger and struggled, but was forced to sit down in the hard, cold chair. Two other lab assistants strapped his arms and legs down while the first two held him still.

"Let…me…GO!" Sephiroth ground out through clenched teeth, straining at his bonds. He growled lowly when Hojo came up and lowered the dome-shaped piece over his head, turning a dial so the inner part tightened until it fit to the shape and size of his head. It did indeed cover his eyes, and his agitation rose when he suddenly became blind.

"Really, my boy, you must try to be more complacent about these things," Hojo chided him. "It would be so much easier."

Sephiroth said nothing, but he was shaking slightly.

"Let's make sure he receives no lasting harm," Hojo told the other scientists. "He is going off to the warfront in two weeks."

"To Wutai?" the female scientist asked. "Are you sure about that? He's so young."

"And, are you willing to take that risk?" one of the others added. "A single stray bullet could unravel all the time and effort you've put into him."

"He'll be fine," Hojo assured them, and Aerith could hear the smile in his voice. "Now, let us begin."

"What are you going to do?" Sephiroth asked, his voice flat and unemotional.

"Well, if you insist on knowing," Hojo said, drawing up a syringe of a strange, luminescent liquid, "all mako infusions up until know have been through dermal absorption with intramuscular injections. I was curious to see what would happen if the mako was introduced directly into the bloodstream."

Sephiroth growled again while the lab assistants attached sensors all over his body. He tried to pull his arm away when one scrubbed a patch on his arm with an alcohol solution, sterilizing the injection site.

"Stop squirming, boy," Hojo told him. "Would you rather I tore your arm up with this needle just because you can't sit still?" Taking a hold of Sephiroth's elbow, he squeezed firmly, holding off the vein he was going to stick. The bright blue vessel became visible, and Hojo set the needle to the pale skin, easily sliding it into the vein. Sephiroth hardly seemed to notice that tiny prick, having felt hundreds of them in his life. Pulling back a bit to make sure he was in the vein, Hojo slowly injected the greenish substance into the youth's arm. He dropped the now empty syringe into a sharps container and stepped back, sitting at the computer Aerith had been looking at.

At first, there was no visible reaction. Sephiroth merely sat there petulantly, wanting to be anywhere but where he was. The scientists, however, were watching their screens closely, jotting down whatever they seemed to be seeing. Aerith, of course, didn't know what kind of information was flashing across the screens. Hojo had no notepad or pen, merely watching his screen with intense interest. His memory was unlike anyone else's in Shinra, and could remember things precisely months after he saw them.

Sephiroth groaned after several minutes. It was a long, low sound, the complaint of someone feeling throbbing pain coursing through his entire body. The scientists continued to jot things down at intervals.

"Hmm…" Aerith could hear Hojo mutter. "His readings started to change almost immediately."

Sephiroth was breathing hard through his teeth now, gripping the arms of the chair. Whatever this "mako" was—Aerith was unsure what that word signified—it was moving through his body, spreading out among his different tissues. Sweat was starting to bead on his skin, and he was trembling nonstop.

"The readings from the pain center of his brain are going crazy," one of the male scientists observed, "but he doesn't seem to be in as much pain as that."

"He does that," Hojo answered. "He hides his discomfort."

The young man in the chair suddenly tensed up hard, his fists clenching and his body arching as much as he was able. A strained cry came from his throat, and the scientists—except Hojo—physically reacted to the sudden change in his behavior and on their screens. The mako in his blood must have reached some vital organ. His heart, perhaps, or his lungs. Maybe even his brain.

Then, he screamed.

Aerith clapped her hands over her ears, almost screaming herself. The pure anguish in that howl shook her to her bones, a chill wave washing through her. Sephiroth was convulsing, straining madly against the straps holding him down, desperate to escape that room, the scientists, the pain within him. Tears of agony where streaming down his face.

She had shut her eyes tightly, so she didn't see Hojo get up after several minutes of the young man's sudden madness, pulling a capped syringe out of one of his lab coat's many pockets. He went over to a small lab area to one side of the room, pulled the needle and cap off the syringe, and replaced the needle with one much longer. He walked back over to the suffering young man, pulled Sephiroth's shirt open, and jammed the needle straight into his chest. Sephiroth, already pain-wracked, didn't even notice when Hojo began injecting the yellow fluid directly into his heart.

Hojo pulled the needle out of Sephiroth's chest when all the liquid had been injected and dropped it, too, into the sharps container. A trickle of blood ran down from the injection site, as Hojo didn't bother to press on it to stop any bleeding.

At first, there was little change. Sephiroth kept shrieking and writhing, tortured from within. After roughly ninety seconds, however, he started to calm. It took almost ten minutes, but he slowly quieted down and stilled, until he was sitting limply in the chair, breathing audibly, sweat glistening on his skin and making his hair stick to his neck. He was exhausted.

"What was that?" the female scientist asked. "That yellow stuff you used at the end there?"

"It is something I recently developed," Hojo explained. "It neutralizes mako that has been recently introduced into the body. After about twenty-four hours, however, mako sets firmly in the tissue, and is not extractable except through other means than that serum."

Aerith heard none of this. She knew Sephiroth had stopped screaming, but she still sat with her hands over her ears. That inhuman wailing had frightened her profoundly, and it would be several minutes more before she could move again.

Just as she ventured to remove her hands, however, someone suddenly grabbed her by the collar and dragged her out from under the desk. She was about to scream, but the cry died in her throat when she saw who had her.

"Well, well, well," Hojo snickered, that sickening smile on his face. "Looks like we had an extra observer."

"The little Cetra girl," one of the scientists said. "Didn't she go missing?"

"Yes, but it looks like I found her again," Hojo grinned, walking toward the front of the room. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I will return her to her room." Aerith didn't struggle, too frightened to resist this man.

They passed very close to Sephiroth. The youth had been unstrapped, and now knelt weakly on the floor, shaking and breathing hard, his eyes clouded and haunted. His teeth were chattering, and he appeared to still be pained even though the mako had been neutralized. He looked at the little girl Hojo was dragging toward the door, and Hojo paused for a moment.

"Look, Sephiroth," he laughed, pushing Aerith toward Sephiroth but not letting go of her. "The future mother of your children."

"Y-you…" Sephiroth gasped, his eyes widening as he looked at the little girl. He tried to go after them as Hojo led the girl outside, but was unable to, his body too weak to move much at all. He fell to his knees again before he even stood up completely. "Aer—!"

The door to the hallways slid shut with a dull thud, cutting the name off in the middle. Hojo dragged Aerith through the twisting hallways back to her cell in the hidden passageway and unceremoniously shoved her inside with a sharp warning not to try running away again. Aerith could do nothing but watch as he walked out and closed the door behind him, dousing her in darkness once more.

* * *

On the fifty-fifth floor of the towering Shinra Headquarters, a young man was sleeping. Lying on his side, wearing only his pants and covered by a thin sheet, he seemed unaware of the chilliness of the room. Maybe he liked to sleep cold, or maybe he just forgot to adjust the thermostat as the winter temperatures dropped. Whether he was aware of the temperature or not, he seemed to be tense, nervous, like he couldn't let his guard down even in sleep. His face seemed serene enough, but there was a tightness about his eyes, indicating he was not as relaxed as he looked.

He lay in a small, Spartan bedroom. The fiftieth through the fifty-fifth floors of the massive building were sleeping quarters for the members and trainees of Soldier. Most slept in narrow, barracks-type rooms with rows of bunk beds along the walls. Some, the Soldier officers, were in rooms built for two or four. The Commander was afforded a room to himself. It was small, but it gave him his privacy. Soundproof walls surrounded every room, and the five floors each had a central common room. Each member and trainee was assigned a room and a bed, but they could move more or less freely throughout the five floors during the daytime. They just had to be where they were assigned by lights-out. The Commander, who represented Soldier within the small group of Shinra's department heads, was exempt from this. He often had dealings that prevented him from making the lights-out time.

This young man, the Commander himself, was very quiet and withdrawn. He was very adept at barking out orders during training and practice sessions, as well as during field missions, but he hardly spoke otherwise. When he did, it was in a very soft, low tone. One would think he would be hard to hear in a noisier-than-normal room, but it was not so. When he spoke to you, it seemed that all else stopped around you. His voice may have been described as gentle, had the impression of enormous power behind it had not been present. Though he never raised his voice when chastising one of his inferiors, the encounter often left the recipient of his admonition shaken, even spooked.

When he did raise his voice, it was like he became another person. Another creature, almost. When angered to the point of dropping his quiet composure, a monster seemed to awaken in him, and the amazing power he revealed in battle seemed to be only a very small tip of a vast iceberg. The very few who witnessed such a change seemed to their companions traumatized, shocked beyond reckoning by what they saw. This man who walked among them, who they all looked up to as a great warrior and role model, had something lurking inside of him that was not human at all.

He stirred and groaned, waking. His eyes opened, and two green irises shined in the dim light. He began to move, pushing himself up to a sitting position, his lean body stretching. A few joints popped, and he stood up, brushing his long hair out of his face. A door led to a tiny bathroom, and he walked through, flipping the light on inside. A toilet, small sink, walk-in shower, mirror, towel rack, and small wastebasket were the only things in there, the room obviously made for a single person to use. He did not use the group showers his inferiors did, and it was one thing he was glad of. He splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up, and reached for the towel that was hanging next to the sink. He pressed his face into the towel, letting the fabric absorb the water off his skin, and thought briefly of the "initiation" new recruits had to go through.

Of course, there were the entry trials, evaluation, and testing each applicant must go through, but once in, a different kind of initiation was instigated by the existing members and trainees. It was never talked about in the open, and each new entry seemed too afraid of retaliation to complain, but rumors of hazing and gang-rape floated around the other departments of Shinra. The Commander himself had never been subjected to it, nor did he participate in it, but he knew very well what the "newbies" were put through. How he felt about it was unknown to everybody but himself, for he had neither spoken of it nor done anything for or against it. He was completely silent on the matter.

He quickly went about his morning routine, and was soon dressed, his long hair falling smoothly down his back, combed straight back from his face.

Glancing at the sword that hung on one wall, his mouth stretched into a mirthless smile.

_The Great Sephiroth_, he thought. _A worthless soubriquet._

Five years ago, at age fifteen, he had brought an end to the war between Wutai and Shinra. Shinra had been losing, their forces on the verge of retreat, and the President was unwilling to face defeat. He had ordered Hojo, the head of Shinra's Science Department, to dispatch a single man to the front. That man had turned out to be more like a boy, and Shinra's troops had almost lost morale at the sight of him. Their great leader was reduced to sending children to fight? The sword he had carried had been much longer than he was, and though they had been impressed that he could lift the heavy weapon with little apparent effort, they had small faith that he would make any difference. He would probably be killed almost immediately.

No one on either side had expected such battle-fury from him. He had dove into combat with no thought to himself, and blood and death seemed to follow him wherever he went. His enormous sword was wielded with astounding ease, and he cut deftly through his enemies, as if the impossibly long blade were an extension of his own body. He had soon been surrounded by dismembered and decapitated bodies, blood covering him from his hair down to his boots.

His eyes then began to glow madly, and powerful magic seemed to flow from him, further decimating those who stood against him. The battle was over within minutes, Shinra's troops standing dumb with shock and Wutai's forces fleeing from this new horror unleashed. When all was quiet, the boy had turned back toward the Shinra camp, no one brave enough to stop him on the way. He preferred to remain alone, and they readily granted him that.

He had been fourteen when he arrived, but by the time Wutai formally surrendered eighteen days later, he had turned fifteen. No one knew who he was or where he came from. All they knew was his name, Sephiroth.

A week after he had returned to Shinra Headquarters, the Soldier Commander had suddenly and mysteriously died. Sephiroth had then been appointed Commander, and no contest was brought against the decision.

Not long after that, mako had been introduced into the training program. Soldier was the elite force of Shinra's military, and the President gave Hojo permission to infuse all current and future members with the volatile substance, wanting to create an even deadlier force to contend with his enemies. Sephiroth's raw power was an example of what could be accomplished through such infusions.

Walking back into the bathroom, Sephiroth looked at his own reflection. Mako infusion caused the recipient's eyes to turn bright blue, an inner glow becoming apparent by the time the four infusion sessions were over with. Sephiroth himself had been injected and exposed to more mako than any other known subject, and though his eyes had originally been the same blue as the other members', they had over time turned an eerie shade of green. He had seen the Lifestream once in its raw form, through a large rent in the earth at the epicenter of a recent earthquake, and had only been mildly surprised to see that it was the same viscous green as his eyes.

Another change was slowly taking place, he noticed. If one looked carefully, his pupils were not entirely round anymore. They looked slightly oval, the narrower parts pointing up and down. Though not nearly as frequently as during his childhood and early adolescence, Hojo still regularly took him into his lab and subjected him to…experiments. That must be why his eyes continued to change. He knew he could easily kill Hojo, and anyone else for that matter, but something in him refused to allow him to do so. He hated the man, but he couldn't kill him. The back of his mind wondered if this aversion were Hojo's doing or something else entirely. He wouldn't put it past the demented scientist to find a way to control people's thoughts and impulses.

Finally, he left his room and went up to floor fifty-six. The entire floor was a training facility for Soldier, and most members and trainees were already there, either striving to be officially admitted to the elite force, or honing their abilities so they are not construed as weak and therefore descended upon by their comrades. It was a harsh, fiercely competitive world they lived in, and any weak links were sought out and destroyed by the others. Only about one-third of trainees lasted long enough to join, and quite a few of those who did not were prevented from doing so simply because they had not survived. It was a brutal experience, and Sephiroth was mildly surprised why so many were willing to risk it.

He went through the large open area without a glance or a word to anybody. When he got to the back, he ascended the stairs built into the wall to the observation loft high above. From there he could see everyone down below, and it was where he kept an eye out for those who were doing well and those who were failing. He had the final say on who was admitted to Soldier, and he often had an opinion on each applicant and trainee before the officers had even differentiated between winners and losers.

His eyes fell on a young man, maybe around fifteen years old. He had jet-black, spiky hair, and he had just graduated from his trials to Soldier Third Class. Zack, Sephiroth thought his name was, and he was secretly impressed with the boy. Zack had taken to the training quite well, and had completed it in about two-thirds of the time it took for most trainees. Surprisingly, though, his personality was upbeat and boisterous, not prideful and belligerent like most of those who made it in.

"Watching your boys as they struggle to be like you?" a hated voice suddenly said behind him. "How thoughtful of you."

Sephiroth stiffened and turned, green eyes meeting black as his gaze found Hojo's. The scientist had come upon him unawares, and Sephiroth berated himself for allowing it.

"Hojo," he growled.

"Yes, yes, it's just me," Hojo replied, his words belying the enormous pride he held within him.

"What are you doing here?" Sephiroth demanded. "You have no business here. Soldier is my department, not yours. Go back to your chemistry sets."

Hojo laughed at the simplification Sephiroth used. "I very much have business here, dear boy."

Sephiroth's hackles rose at being called a boy, but he said nothing.

"You, of course, are here," Hojo continued. "I cannot allow you to stray far from me. I was ever so reluctant to allow my prize specimen this level of independence, but I must obey the President's orders. Appointing you Commander and then keeping you under my heel would so damage the loyalty and respect these boys are willing to have for you."

"Get out of my sight," Sephiroth hissed, turning back to looking out over the training area. "I am not some lab rat for you to abuse anymore."

Hojo laughed again. "Oh? Is this assertiveness I hear? How cute." Sephiroth heard him come closer, and shivered when he felt him very near behind him. "I am the only constant in your life, Sephiroth. Without me, you would be totally alone. I'm the only one you can trust."

"Trust!" Sephiroth choked. "You, who tormented me endlessly for your own sick pleasure! I can _trust_ you!" He struggled to keep his voice down. Though the loft was enclosed with Plexiglas, he didn't want to risk anyone down below hearing him. He would die before he revealed his status as a guinea pig to the men and boys who looked up to him.

"My own sick pleasure?" Hojo clucked, sounding insulted. "My dear boy, it was in the name of science. My pleasure in it was merely incidental."

Sephiroth's hands clenched into fists. This man behind him infuriated him more than any other single person, yet he did not strike at him. It was not an active resistance to the impulse, rather an absence of the impulse entirely. It confused an agitated him. He tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder blade.

"You look ill," Hojo observed. "Come with me. I can find something to make you feel better."

"Absolutely not," Sephiroth shook his head. Knowing Hojo, whatever the scientist found to "make him feel better" would have…side-effects.

Hojo chuckled, and before Sephiroth could do anything else, he felt a pain suddenly in the back of his neck. He reflexively jerked forward but the motion knocked him to his knees, his balance taken away by whatever Hojo had just injected into him. He cursed himself for letting the madman get so close without keeping both eyes on him.

"Wh-what…?" he stammered, grabbing his head as he began feeling dizzy, "what was…?"

"Just a mild tranquilizer," Hojo explained coolly. "It will wear off in about twenty to thirty minutes. By then, everything will be ready." He pressed something on a wristband he wore, calling lab assistants to get the bigger man into the upper floors of the building where his labs were. He took Sephiroth's chin in his hand, making their eyes meet. "I just want you to remember something, Sephiroth. You belong to me."

"Damn you…!" Sephiroth growled. "Don't touch me!" He couldn't stand the feel of those cold hands.

"Ah, you're here," Hojo said as two assistants entered. "Get him up to the science department." The two men hauled Sephiroth up by the arms, and by then the silver-haired warrior was too sedated to even struggle.

Ten minutes later, his was being strapped to a lab table.

"What are you going to do, Sir?" a lesser scientist asked.

"I need to draw blood," Hojo explained, readying a set of syringes. "I also need tissue samples, and I mean to get them from various parts of his body. He would of course not allow me to collect the samples I need while he's awake, so I had no choice but to sedate him first."

"What do you need tissue samples and blood for?" the man wondered aloud.

Hojo grinned and pointed him toward a book lying closed on a nearby table. It was old and worn, and the initials engraved into the front cover and spine told all who saw them that it had been retrieved from Professor Gast's underground library and lab in Nibelheim, a remote village on the Central Continent. On the cover, aside from the initials, was a single word, _Cloning_.

"Now," Hojo said, taking a syringe and testing how the plunger moved through the chamber, "let us begin."

**End**

**Author's Notes:** There, finally done. It took almost two weeks to write this, longer than any of my other one-shots have taken. I don't really have an excuse. This past week, though, has been really weird. I'm not at liberty to discuss it yet, so all I can say is that I may have gotten this done quicker if it had been a little more normal.

Ever since I started writing fanfiction, I've used "owari" instead of "end" or "the end", and "onegai shimasu" when asking people to leave feedback. I started that because, when I started writing, I was so new to Japanese culture and pop culture that I thought everything Japanese was just _so awesome_, and wanted to be as Japanese as possible in my writings. I overdid the Japanese lingo in a lot of my earlier fics—mainly my _Fushigi Yuugi_ and _Slayers_ stuff—and when I read through now, I wince every time I come to a word or phrase that isn't exactly in common usage among the anime/manga fan community (like "baka" or "wai", or honorifics like "-san" or "-chan"). Even with the common stuff, I overdid it. Anyway, I thought the "owari" and "onegai shimasu" was getting old and pointless, so I'm gonna stop. Considering how infrequently I write anymore, I doubt anyone will notice the change, though. I just thought I'd say.

Anyway, enough rambling about style changes. I'd love to hear feedback anyone has for this or any of my other fanfics, so don't hesitate to email me or leave a review. Also, check out my journal at (my username is, not surprisingly, anniechan). I just started, but if you're interested in what I have to say about random stuff, you can find it there.


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